


à la prochaine

by leiascully



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M
Language: Français
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-20
Updated: 2007-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were days when House got stuck in other languages.  With Cuddy, it was always French.</p>
            </blockquote>





	à la prochaine

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: pre-series  
> A/N: So this isn't all in English, or even mostly in English, because of a late night bet with a certain [**queenzulu**](http://queenzulu.livejournal.com/). No, this Smut Tuesday you get the expérience française. This was really fun to write, because it's been a long time since I wrote anything but an essay in French. (Native speakers, feel free to offer concrit and grammatical corrections.) I couldn't have done this without [Word Reference](http://www.wordreference.com). This one's for [**cynicalgrl**](http://cynicalgrl.livejournal.com/), who asked for the first time House saw Cuddy after college. Many, many thanks to [**friendsholic**](http://friendsholic.livejournal.com/) for correcting and streamlining my French. And, in case you were wondering, [this](http://www.anthropologie.com/jump.jsp?itemID=16684&itemType=PRODUCT&iSubCat=2253&iMainCat=2252) was the model for Cuddy's dress.  
> Disclaimer: _House M.D._ and all related characters are the property of Shore Z, Bad Hat Harry, and Fox. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

There were days when House got stuck in other languages. It was an effort to push the words into English; they got stretched out of shape. In a way, he was glad that his proficiency didn't generally extend to medical vocabulary. Hitting the multisyllabic Latin derivatives in the middle of a ripple of inspiration in Spanish tended to derail his train of thought back into English. After that, he could shift the ideas into something that would translate to the kids, but he still got cravings for enchiladas. On the days that he was immersed in the throaty consonants of Hindi, he always turned up the thermostat. He'd been having a conversation with Wilson once and Wilson had said something obvious and House had snapped back, "_Main jaanthi hoon!_" and gotten a very puzzled look. Once he'd told the Fellows "_Jao_!" instead of "Scoot!" and gotten three puzzled looks, like the Dolby Surround of confusion. At least then he'd been able to pretend it had been a slurred "Get out!"

But with Cuddy it was always French, and that didn't make any sense. The first time he'd met her after she finished college had been in Italy. He'd been at a conference, sent as an emissary, and he'd been skipping lectures in favor of eating bruschetta and drinking red wine at a café. The waiter had left the bottle and an extra glass. Italy was full of optimists. He'd been people-watching, observing the people crossing the place. She'd walked by in a summer dress, just another pretty girl with curly hair pulled back into some fashionable style and sunglasses too big for her eyes, but there'd been something about the set of her shoulders. He remembered.

\+ + + +

La première fois qu'il la rencontra, il était plus énnervé qu'enchanté. Elle n'était qu'une étudiante dans la class qu'il surveillait, et elle le trouva et interrompit son déjeuner. "Alors, Lisa Cuddy, qu'est-ce que je peux faire pour toi?" il demanda, en train de regarder la télé.

"Vous êtes bien l'assistant pour mon cours de chimie? Greg House?"

"Oui."

"Vous n'avez pas l'apparence d'un assistant."

Il tourna, la surveilla. Elle avait les cheveux bruns bouclés en queue de cheval, les yeux bleus, et l'air intelligente. Moins belle que déterminée, il pensa, une fille un peu mince, un peu jeune. Elle avait le dos droit. "Tu n'as pas l'apparence d'une idiote qui doit chercher un assistant qui n'a jamais assisté au cours."

Elle haussa les épaules, les yeux luisants et les dents petits et trop blancs. "Vous êtes payé de m'aider. Vous êtes mon ressource."

Il fit une grimace. "Donne-moi le problème." Elle sourit, son visage illuminé avec sa victoire. Elle lui tendit ses notes. Elle avait une écriture compacte et élégante. Il la regardait, la petite étudiante feroce qui portait un jean et un t-shirt avec "Partypants" blazonna sur la poitrine.

"Tu aimes la chimie?" lui demanda-t-il.

"Oui."

"Et tu n'étais pas trop fière de venir me voir, Cuddy? Une fille comme toi? Une fille qui aime fêter, sans doute. C'est plus facile d'essayer de séduire le prof."

Le sourire devint dangereux. "Je préfère d'utiliser les ressources externes, si c'est possible. Ca veut dire que c'est vous. J'aime réussir, House. Vous allez me voir souvent."

Il écrivit des commentaires sur ses notes et les lui remit. "Alors. Essaie-le. Je dois trouver un autre endroit de me cacher, merci."

Elle lui donna un regard tolerant qui promettait des rendez-vous futurs. "A la prochaine, House." Et il savait de son ton qu'il y aurait beaucoup de "prochaines". Il soupira et retourna à la télé.

\+ + + +

But in Rome there was something in the light or something in the wine. He saw her and knew her, even though she was all curves now instead of the skinny student in her ratty t-shirt.

"Cuddy!" he said, and the memory shifted into French.

Elle hésita, en tournant la tête comme elle entendait une phrase de musique qu'elle oublia presque. Une brise tiède colla le tissu de sa robe sur ses hanches et libera des boucles de cheveux de son chignon. Bienvenue en Italie, il pensa, où le romance surnaturel est normal.

"Cuddy," il dit encore une fois, et elle pivota sur ses talons et le vit. Un sourire encore plus lumineux que le soleil apparut sur son visage et il se dora au chaleur du vin, du sourire, du soleil, du bonheur soudain, du désire soudain. Elle passa une main sur les cheveux pour dresser les petits mèches égarés du chignon et l'approcha. Elle porta une robe en soie blanche avec des petites roses partout et un décolleté plongeant qui montrait une clavicule corbue comme des ailes et la peau fine. Les talons étaient très hauts, mais elle se promenait avec élégance sur les les pavés de la place.

"Gregory House," dit-elle, en enlevant ses lunettes de soleil pour les cacher dans son sac à main. "Je ne pensait jamais de te voir ici."

"Assies-toi," dit-il. "Prends un verre."

Elle l'éxamina pendant un long moment. "D'accord. Si tu me dis ce que tu fasse ici." Elle s'assit et il lui remplit un autre verre de vin. Il ne savait pas si le rose de ses lèvres et sur les joues était le resultat du maquillage subtile ou d'une beauté naturelle. Ses yeux étaient encore plus clairs et plus bleus qu'il ne se souvint.

"Je bois du vin," dit-il, "je mange du bruschetta. J'ai échappé à une séries de conférences interminables données par des médecins qui souffrent d'une manque totale d'imagination et d'innovation. Et toi?"

Elle rit, et le son avait la saveur du whiskey et du miel. "J'suis touriste. Je fais la tour d'Europe. C'était mon cadeau pour avoir obtenu mon diplôme."

"Et après?" Il but une gorgée de vin.

Elle souleva le verre aux lèvres. "Je serais médecin. J'ai été accepté à Hopkins."

"Felicitations." Il lui porta un toast. "Je t'ai inspirée, sans doute."

Elle lui jeta un regard chaleureux. "T'es formidable, House, mais je savais toujours ce que je voulais."

"Et c'était pour cela que tu m'as cherché sans cesse," il râla sans vitriol. "Je n'avais jamais la paix."

"Bien sûr je te cherchait," elle frima. "Je viens de te dire: je sais toujours ce que je veux." Elle sirota le vin, en le regardant sur le bord du verre.

"Ah bon?" Il la étudia: la courbe de ses lèvres, le rougissement graduel de ses joues, la lueur sachante de ses yeux. La nuque, la lourdeur galante de ses cils, la pudeur de ses doigts et de ses poignets, encerclés par une montre et des bracelets. Elle était belle comme une madone, la peau avec le lustre du marbre et son sourire de la madeleine. Il se sentit traverser l'épine un frisson du désire. Le chaleur du jour se répandit dans son corps. "Tu m'as trouvé."

"Apparemment."

"C'est bizarre de te revoir."

"Merci, House. Tu n'as pas perdu ta discrétion."

"Tu sais bien ce que je veux dire. C'est bizarre de te voir maintenant, en dehors la salle de classe, ici à Rome."

Elle haussa les épaules. "Soit une coïncidence, soit le destin. Qui peut dire?"

Le soleil brillait sur la place. Les immeubles blancs et la robe blanche reflétèrent une incandescence qui éblouit les yeux. Il se sentait en même temps ivre et complètement en contrôle de lui-même. Il la désirait. Elle respira, la soie de la robe tendue sur ses jolies seins. Il voudrait voir le reste de son corps, ses membres blancs sur ses draps blancs, et le bouton de rose de sa bouche tout rouge et détendue avec ivresse. Il voudrait redécouvrir cette nouvelle Cuddy, cette étudiante avec sa confiance transformée en femme raffinée. La forza del destino, il pensa, et il lui addressa un grand sourire. "Tu veux partir?"

Elle hissa le menton dans un geste affirmatif.

"Alors, allons-y," dit-il, et la guida vers les petites allées ou se trouvait son hôtel, la main au creux des reins.

\+ + + +

Elle avait la peau lisse et chaude sous ses doigts. Il glissa les mains au-dessous de sa robe et il lui caressa les épaules. Elle passa le revers de la main sur ses joues rugueuses et lui donna un baiser avec sa bouche passionnée. Ils s'embrassaient jusqu'au point de la suffocation, lui en train de caresser ses cuisses et elle avec une main autour de son crâne et ses hanches serrées fermements contre les siennes.

"Enleve ta chemise," elle marmonna contre sa joue, en tirant la coulisse. "Je veux te voir."

"Si je peux te déshabiller," il négocia, et elle sourit.

"Bien sûr. Dépeche-toi."

"Nous aurions pu nous amuser beaucoup plus pendant les longs hivers du Michigan," il râla et jeta la chemise au coin de la chambre. "Si j'avais su que tu voulait de l'instruction plus extraconjugale que parascolaire."

"Tais-toi," elle dit, et elle trouva son mamelon avec ses dents. Il grogna avec plaisir et froissa la soie de la robe pour exposer plus de sa peau. Elle s'occupait avec le bouton de son jean, les doigts agiles sur son hanche nue. Le jean glissa vers le sol et il le donna un coup de pied. Il enleva la robe et deloga le serre-tête. Ses cheveux tombèrent sur ses épaules fermes. Toute nue, elle avait le corps plantureux, les seins hauts, les jambes souplement musclées. Elle porta un soutien-gorge et un slip en dentelle rose foncée. La confiance de son regard lui prit par surprise. La force de son gré se montra aux yeux. Toi et moi, il pensa, avec nos désires, avec nos aspirations. Il hésita.

"Caresse-moi," elle dit. "House. Embrasse-moi."

La fenêtre fut ouverte. La brise coulissa sur toute leur peau nue, sa peau à lui, sa peau à elle. Son jean fut la pile sur les quatre chaussures, les chaussettes, les bas, la chemise, la robe. Elle fut toute belle, encore jeune, toute fraiche, toute sachante. Il se sentit au bord d'un chasm. Suis-je content? se demanda-t-il, car je ne comprends pas les conséquences du destin, ou de la coïncidence.

Il n'était pas un trouillard. Il étendit les bras. Il la serra contre son corps. Il l'embrassa avec passion, et elle repondit. Sa langue glissa entre ses lèvres. Il gouta la douceur de sa bouche, de sa gorge, de sa poitrine. Il gouta la sueur fine sur la peau entre les seins et les mains glissèrent sur ses fesses. La dentelle du soutien-gorge s'accrocha sur sa barbe de trois jours. Elle fit un son d'impatience et dégrafa la fermature du soutien-gorge.

"Ne triche pas," il dit. "Tu m'as dit que c'est mon privilege de te déshabiller."

"Alors, dépeche-toi," elle marmonna d'une voix rauque. "Je te désire."

"Tu m'auras."

Elle rit et glissa les mains au-dessous de son caleçon pour saisir sa queue. Il enfonca le cercle de ses doigts et explora les plis de sa chattes avec ses propres doigts. Elle était mouillée avec désire. Il gronda et suça ses seins.

"T'as un presérvatif?" elle haleta. "Sinon, j'utilise la pilule, mais..."

"J'suis médecin," il bredouilla autour de son mamelon. "Tu s'ras médecin. J'ai un préservatif."

"N'hésite plus," elle grogna. "J'ai besoin de toi."

Il coulissa le nez sur son ventre, en sentant l'arôme de son envie. "T'es belle," il marmonna, en train de glisser le slip sur ses cuisses. Il frotta son nez contre les petites boucles et lava les plis avec la langue. Elle grelotta et ronronna.

"S'il te plait," siffla-t-elle, "s'il te plait, s'il te plait." Mais il se concentra sur le mouvement de sa langue sur son clitoris, entre les plis de sa chatte. Elle avait la saveur de l'été, fraiche et piquant. Il redoubla ses efforts et la pénétra avec deux doigts. Elle gémit. "House..."

"Je veux te voir jouir," il bredouilla. "T'es belle." Il la baisa avec ses doigts et sa langue, et ses gémissements devinrent de plus en plus urgentes. Il bourdonna contre son clitoris et pressa sur sa paroi jusqu'qu point ou elle cria et serra ses épaules, les muscles tendus et tout à coup lisses. Il lui donna un baiser sur la cuisse et la serra pour la allonger sur le lit.

"T'es beau," elle marmonna. "Et t'es doué."

"J'sais," dit-il, et enleva son caleçon. Il trouva un préservatif dans la poche de sa valise et se le mit avant d'approcher le lit. Il s'allongea à côté d'elle et elle sourit.

"Baise-moi," bredouilla-t-elle. "Je veux te voir jouir." Elle lui caressa les fesses, le dos. Il sentit la chaleur délicieuse de son corps. Il l'embrassa et elle serra sa queue; il sentit le pouls du sang partout dans son corps et se frotta contra sa paume.

"Je veux te voir me baiser," il dit et s'assut avec le dos contre la tête de lit, et elle l'enjamba afin que sa queue puisse pousser entre ses plis.

"Alors," marmonna-t-elle. "Commençons-nous?"

"Dépeche-toi," il gronda, et elle rit et se baissait lentement. Trop lentement, pensa-t-il, et il serra ses hanches et se plongea en elle. Elle haleta avec plaisir et se frotta contre ses hanches. Il lui caressa les seins. La chambre fut plein de lumière blanche, parfumée avec l'arôme de l'amour, et Cuddy fut blanche et rose et noire au-dessus de lui. Il s'enfoncait en elle, le plaisir comme du vin coursait au travers le sang, et leurs gémissements se mélangèrent aux coins du plafond, des sons avec forme et substance.

"Oh, mon Dieuuuuuuuu," dit-elle, et il dit, "Aaaaaaaaah," et le chaleur se répandait et se répandait. Il poussa la main entre leurs corps pour la caresser et elle se mordit la lèvre. Il sentit tout à coup les battements internes de ses muscles, et quelqu'un eut peut-être allumé un feu, parce que la chambra brûlait. Il sentit le soleil sur sa peau, la chaleur et la contraction de sa chatte, le plaisir qui rongeait son corps, et la tension de ses couilles. "Aaaaaaaaah," dit-il encore une fois, et il s'enfonca deux fois, trois fois en elle, ses doigts crispés sur ses hanches.

"Allez, allez," elle marmonna et pressa des baisers contre l'épaule. "Ooooh, allez."

Il gémit. La chaleur de la chambra explosa, un coup de foudre tout silencieux, et il explosa aussi avec ses bras autour de son corps. "Ah, merde," dit-il, et enleva le préservatif avec ses mains qui tremblaient.

Après, ils avaient dormi ensemble, les membres entremêlés dans les draps collants avec de la sueur, recru de fatigue. Quand il se réveilla, il la vit en train de se mettre les talons. Il faisait presque nuit. La chambre était foncée. Il pensa voir encore les formes de leurs gémissements aux coins du plafond comme des oiseux perchés.

"Tu pars?" dit-il, et se leva sur le coude.

"Oui," dit-elle avec son sourire de madone. "Je dois."

Il la regarda se coiffer, ajuster les sangles de ses chassures et de ses vêtements avec une précision qu'il trouva érotique.

"Alors," dit-elle au seuil de la chambre dans sa robe froissée. "A la prochaine, House."

"A la prochaine," marmonna-t-il.

Il savait qu'il y aurait une prochaine, au moins.

\+ + + +

_English Version_

The first time he met her, he was more irritated then enchanted. She was just a student in the class he TAed for, and she sought him out and interrupted his lunch. "So, Lisa Cuddy, what can I do for you?" he asked, looking at the television instead of at her to convey his disinterest.

"You're the TA for my chem class? Greg House?"

"Yep."

"You don't look like a TA."

He turned and looked her over. She had curly dark hair pulled into a ponytail, blue eyes, and an air of intelligence. Less lovely than determined, he though, a girl still, a bit skinny and a bit young. But she stood up very straight. "You don't look like an idiot who would have to look for a TA who's never actually come to your class."

She shrugged, her eyes gleaming and her teeth small and very white. "You're paid to help me. You're my resource."

He grimaced. "Show me the problem." She grinned, her face lit up with her victory, and handed him her notes. Her handwriting was compact and elegant. He looked at her, a fierce student in her jeans and her t-shirt that had "Partypants" scrawled over the chest.

"You like chemistry?" he demanded.

"Yes."

"And you weren't too proud to come and see me, Cuddy? A girl like you? A party girl, no doubt. It's easier to seduce the prof than to get help from me."

Her smile became dangerous. "I'd rather use external resources, if it's possible. Which means you. I like to succeed, House. You're going to see a lot of me."

He wrote some commentary on her notes and handed them back. "There. Try that. I have to find another hiding place now, thanks to you."

She gave him a tolerant look that promised future rendezvous. "See you next time, House." From her tone, he knew there would be a lot of next times. He sighed and went back to the television.

\+ + + +

But in Rome there was something in the light or something in the wine. He saw her and knew her, even though she was all curves now instead of the skinny student in her ratty t-shirt.

"Cuddy!" he said, and the memory shifted into French.

She hesitated, turning her head as if she were listening to a hint of music she'd almost forgotten. A warm breeze smoothed the fabric of her dress over her hips and liberated a few curls from her chignon. Welcome to Italy, he though, where a supernatural sense of romance is normal.

"Cuddy," he said again, and she turned on her high heels and saw him. A smile even brighter than the sunshine in the square broke over her face and he basked in the heat of the wine, of her smile, of the sunshine, of a sudden happiness, of a sudden desire. She passed a hand over her head to tame the unruly wisps and came towards him. She wore a dress of white silk with tiny roses all over it and a plunging neckline that showed a collarbone curved like a bird's wing and an expanse of fine skin. Her shoes were very tall, but she walked gracefully over the cobblestones of the square.

"Gregory House," she said, taking off her sunglasses and putting them in her handbag. "I wouldn't have thought to see you here."

"Sit down," he said. "Glass of wine?"

She looked at him for a long moment. "All right. If you tell me what you're doing here." She sat down and he filled a glass of wine for her. He wasn't sure if the rose of her lips and cheeks was the result of subtle makeup or natural beauty, but she looked good. Her eyes were even more brilliant and more blue than he remembered.

"I'm drinking wine here," he said, "I'm eating bruschetta. I have engineered a daring escape from a series of interminable lectures given by doctors who suffer from a total lack of imagination and innovation. You?"

She laughed, and the sound had the savor of whiskey with honey. "I'm a tourist. Doing the tour of Europe. It was my graduation present from my parents."

"And after that?" He had a swallow of wine.

She lifted her glass to her lips. "I'm going to be a doctor. I got into Hopkins."

"Congratulations." He toasted her. "I inspired you to make this decision, no doubt."

She threw him an affectionate look. "You're formidable, House, but I always knew what I wanted."

"And it was for that that you searched me out constantly," he complained without any vitriol. "I didn't have peace from the moment you enrolled in that class."

"Of course I searched you out," she teased. "I just told you: I always knew what I want." She sipped her wine, looking at him over the rim of her glass.

"Oh?" He studied her: the curve of her lips, the slow flush of her cheeks, the knowing gleam in her eyes. The nape of her neck, the flirtatious heaviness of her lashes. The fineness of her fingers and her wrists, encircled by a watch and some bracelets. She was lovely like a madonna, her skin with its luster of marble and her smile like the Magdalene's. He felt a shiver of desire run down his spine. The heat of the day spread through his body. "You found me."

"Apparently."

"It's bizarre to see you."

"Thanks, House. You haven't lost your tact."

"You know what I'm saying. It's bizarre to see you here, now, outside the classroom, in Rome."

She shrugged. "Maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe it's destiny. Who knows?"

The sun shone in the square. The white buildings and the white dress reflected a incandescence that dazzled his eyes. He felt tipsy and completely sober at the same time. He wanted her. She breathed in deeply, the silk of her dress taut over her lovely breasts. He wanted to see the rest of her body, her white limbs tangled in his white sheets and the rosebud of her mouth red and loose with delight. He wanted to rediscover this new Cuddy, the confident student tranformed into an elegant woman. La forza del destino, he thought, and grinned at her. "You want to go?"

She lifted her chin in agreement.

"Let's go," he said, and guided her towards the little alleys where his hotel was, his hand at the small of her back.

\+ + + +

Her skin was smooth and warm under his fingers. He slid his hands under her dress and caressed her shoulders. She touched the backs of her fingers to his rough cheeks and kissed him with her passionate mouth. He kissed her back until they were both light-headed, him touching her thighs and her with one hand around the back of his head and her hips pushed firmly against his.

"Take off your shirt," she murmured against his cheek, tugging at the hem of the shirt. "I want to see you."

"If I can undress you," he negociated, and she smiled.

"Of course. Hurry up."

"We could have had a lot more fun during those long Michigan winters," he complained and threw his shirt into the corner of the room. "If I'd known you were wanting more extracurricular instruction."

"Shut up," she said, and found his nipple with her teeth. He groaned with pleasure and crumpled the silk of her dress up her back to expose more of her skin. She busied herself with the buttons of his jeans, her agile fingers against his bare hip. His jeans slid toward the floor and he kicked them away, pulling her dress over her head and dislodging her hair clip. Her hair fell loose over her firm shoulders. Naked, she had a neat curvy body, high breasts, smoothly muscled legs. She wore a bra and panties made of rosy lace. The confidence in her gaze took him by surprise: the force of her will showed in her eyes. You and me, he thought, with our desires, with our aspirations. He hesitated.

"Touch me," she said. "House. Kiss me."

The window was open. The breeze washed over all of their bare skin, his skin, her skin. His jeans were in a pile with their four shoes, his socks, her stockings, his shirt, her dress. She was completely lovely, still young, fresh and knowing. He felt like he was on the edge of a precipice. Am I happy here? he asked himself, because I don't understand the consequences of destiny, or of coincidence.

But he wasn't a coward. He held out his arms. He pulled her against his body. He kissed her passionately, and she responded. Her tongue slid against his lips. He tasted the sweetness of her mouth, of her throat, of her chest. He tasted the fine sweat of the skin between her breasts and his hands slid over her ass. The lace of her bra caught on his stubble. She made an impatient sound and undid the clasp.

"No cheating," he said. "You said it was my right to undress you."

"Then hurry up," she murmured huskily. "I want you."

"You'll have me."

She laughed and slid her hands into his boxers to grasp his cock. He thrust into the circle of her fingers and explored the folds of her cunt with his own fingers. She was slick with lust. He groaned and kissed her breasts, sucking at them.

"Do you have a condom?" she gasped. "If not, I'm on the Pill, but..."

"I'm a doctor," he mumbled around her nipple. "You'll be a doctor. I have a condom."

"Don't wait any longer," she growled. "I need you."

He ran the tip of his nose down her stomach, catching a whiff of her lust. "You're gorgeous," he murmured, sliding her panties down over her thighs. He nuzzled the curls between her legs and laved her folds with his tongue. She shivered and purred.

"Please," she panted, "please, please." But he concentrated on the movement of his tongue over her clit and between her folds. She tasted like summer, fresh and tangy. He redoubled his efforts and pushed two fingers into her. She groaned. "House..."

"I want to see you come," he mumbled. "You're gorgeous." He fucked her with fingers and tongue, and her groans got faster and more urgent. He hummed against her clit and pressed against her inner wall until she cried out and grabbed his shoulders, her muscles tensing and then suddenly supple. He kissed her thigh and held her so that he could lay her down on the bed.

"You're handsome," she murmured. "And you're talented."

"I know," he said, skinning off his boxers. He found a condom in a pocket of his suitcase and rolled it on before flopping down on the bed. He stretched out next to her and she smiled.

"Fuck me," she said, low and husky. "I want to see you come." She caressed his ass, his back. He felt the delicious heat of her body near his. He kissed her and she took his cock in hand; he felt the pulse of his blood throughout his body and rubbed himself against her palm.

"I want to see you fuck me," he said, and pulled himself up to sit with his back against the headboard. She straddled him, kneeling so that the head of his cock nudged between her folds.

"Well then," she murmured. "Shall we?"

"Hurry up," he growled, and she laughed and lowered herself slowly, slowly. Too slowly, he thought, and grabbed her hips and thrust up into her. She gasped with pleasure and rubbed against his hips. He squeezed her breasts gently. The room was full of white light, perfumed with the scent of sex, and Cuddy was white and pink and black above him. He thrust into her, pleasure like wine running through his veins, and their moans melded in the corners of the ceiling, sounds that almost had form and substance.

"Oh, Gooooooooooooood," she said, and he said, "Aaaaaaaaaaah," and the heat spread and spread in the room. He pushed a hand between their bodies to caress her and she bit her lip. He felt suddenly the fluttering of her internal muscles, and perhaps someone had lit a fire, because the room was burning. He felt the sunlight on his skin, the heat and the tightness of her cunt, the pleasure that eroded his bones until he was just heat, the tension of his balls. "Aaaaah," he said again, and thrust up into her two times, three times, his fingers clutching at her hips.

"Come on, come on," she murmured and pressed kisses against his shoulder. "Oooh, come on."

He groaned. The seeming furnace of the room exploded, a silent clap of thunder, and he exploded with it, her arms slung around his body. "Oh, fuck," he said, and peeled off the condom with hands that trembled.

Afterwards, they slept, their limbs tangled in the sheets that were damp with sweat, both of them exhausted. When he woke, he saw her putting on her shoes. It was nearly evening. The room was full of pale shadows. He imagined he could almost see the shapes of their moans still in the corners of the ceiling like perching birds.

"You're going?" he asked, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Yes," she said with her madonna's smile. "I should."

He watched her fix her hair, adjust the straps of her shoes and smooth her wrinkled clothes, her precision somehow erotic.

"So," she said, standing on the doorsill in her crumpled dress. "See you next time, House."

"Next time," he murmured.

He knew, at least, that there would be a next time.


End file.
